Wake Up  Jocelyn's Story
by Endgame Scribe
Summary: The Mortal Instruments books are mostly centered around the adventures of Clary, Jace, the Lightwoods, etc. But what did Jocelyn Morgenstern experience during her time asleep? Put to Coheed and Cambria's song 'Wake Up'.


Wake Up – Jocelyn's Story

No. This couldn't be happening. Not again. She'd done everything she could, taken all the precautions, distanced herself, almost cutting herself off from the world she'd grown up in. She was content with living like a mundane, a normal human, as long as it had kept Clary safe.

And now he was back, the reason she had left in the first place. As Jocelyn Morgenstern tipped the bottle back, she was glad that her daughter would have Simon to go to, because she herself wouldn't be back for a while.

Valentine was here for her.

And the Mortal Cup, but since she wouldn't be giving that up very easily, he'd find her to be a consolation prize.

But he'd get nothing from her, thanks to the warlock, Ragnor Fell. Jocelyn instantly felt drowsy from the draught, dropping off into a kind of daze; she couldn't walk, talk, or see, but she was conscious and awake inside her mind.

"Jocelyn," she heard him say softly and in triumph. And then he was taking her away in the midst of crashes that were slowly fading the further they got from the apartment.

He had her, and she knew that she wasn't going back anytime soon. She heard some things that she couldn't understand, noises that she couldn't quite place and voices that had been long since heard and not soon forgotten, but she could feel that they were in a moving vehicle. She was thankful that she couldn't see, because she wouldn't have been able to stand looking upon the face of Valentine Morgenstern.

_I'm gonna ride this plane__  
__Out of your life again__  
__I wish that I could stay__  
__But you argue_

The bed he'd placed her on was soft and comfortable. On it she felt like she was floating. And she was, in and out of what was happening around her. She felt the pricks of needles and the muttered obscenities of several different voices as their attempts to wake her failed – Pangborn, she thought, maybe Blackwell, but most often Valentine was there.

The manacles around her wrists and ankles, though, she could have done without.

_More than this I wish__  
__You could have seen my face__  
__In back seat staring out__  
__The window_

Valentine would sit and talk to her about everything on his mind. He talked to her of his plans, of their son, and of how much he loved her, though she doubted he truly knew anything near love, and how she had betrayed him by leaving Alicante, fleeing from Idris with 'the werewolf', 'the Downworlder.' Luke. It sickened her to hear him talk of his once parabati, his once friend and perfect fighting partner, in such a degrading way, so detached and unconcerned.

She longed for company besides him. She missed Clary dearly, as well as Simon, whom she had grown so used to seeing. And dear God did she miss Luke. She thought of how he'd sought her out, and wished that he could again.

_I'll do anything for you__  
__Kill anyone for you__  
__So leave yourself intact, cause I will be coming back__  
__In a phrase to cut these lips, 'I love you.'_

But that was impossible. She wouldn't be able to just go; Valentine would never allow it. She still had the information he needed, and as long as she was alive, so were the chances he thought he had. If she could have, she would have laughed at him as he surmised about 'when' he woke her up. She wanted to let him know how wrong he was, though she assumed he'd never find out about her little secret. Only Madeline knew, and she would never let Valentine have the information he could use to awaken her.

He would come to see her almost every day. He always greeted her so pleasantly and happily, "Good morning." Sometimes he would only stay for minutes at a time, while other times he would sit until his words slowed and were broken by carefully hidden yawns. The light would fade away, and he'd kiss her forehead, whispering, "Goodnight, Jocelyn."

That was one of the times she couldn't bear sleeping anymore; the thought of him coming so close to her revolted her now.

_The morning will come__  
__In the press of every kiss; with your head upon my chest__  
__Where I will annoy you__  
__With every waking breath__  
__Until you__  
__Decide to wake up_

He would get mad when his attempts to rouse her were unsuccessful, and though he tried to hide it, she always knew. She heard it seep into his voice in a dark undertone, though he spoke carefully.

Time had ceased to make any sense to her. Though the time was probably only days, it felt like months, years, centuries. _Is this what it's like for the Downworlders?_ she wondered. She did not envy them eternal life if that was what it came to.

And when she was almost hopeless, bored by the monotony of the constant routine, she heard something that caught her attention. That morning, Valentine had told her that he was very excited, and the phrasing of his words was very vague.

This noise was hurried, like footsteps, though she'd not heard them while Valentine walked to her. He always approached almost silently, and he had no reason to hurry. But those voices that accompanied them were as familiar to her as her own: Luke and Clary.

She wasn't sure what was happening, and her eyes wouldn't open to make sure, even for a split second, that she hadn't lost it. That she wasn't hallucinating because their absence weighed down upon her every minute, and that she wasn't slowly becoming more depressed, more solemn, more melancholy every second that they were away from her. No, every second that _she_ was away from _them_.

But the voices were so familiar, and that gasp coming from across the room was so Clary that it hurt Jocelyn to hear it again. _No,_ she convinced herself. There was no way that they could be there, that they could've figured out where Valentine was and found her as well. She didn't know which she'd rather have: her daughter and best friend in danger because they came to rescue her, or be hallucinating, thinking she was hearing them in the room with her while their real selves were alive and well and safe.

The weight that fell upon her in the next moment, though, was physical and shedding tears.

Jocelyn hoped that _that_ wasn't a hallucination, or she'd really lost it.

But she heard Luke talking to Clary. Clary was here, and hugging her. Clary, her beautiful daughter, was hugging her and she lacked the simple motor skills to return the sentiment.

She heard someone else coming, footsteps in the hallway, but more measured and careful than Luke and Clary's had been. She longed to scream at them, to warn them, to keep them safe. That had been the reason that she'd left. But look where that had gotten her.

Pangborn and Blackwell. She recognized the voices, and didn't care for the tone or words they used when they spoke of her, though it wasn't her greatest concern.

Jocelyn was scared for Luke. Even though he was a werewolf, Pangborn and Blackwell had been killing people for far longer and were far more comfortable with it; Luke wasn't comfortable with it at all.

And Clary, she was terrified for. The last time she'd seen Clary, she'd been giving her the news that they were going away, and Clary had stormed out, confused and angry, but still thankfully mundane and safe. She wasn't sure about what Clary knew by this time, but she knew that her daughter was most definitely not safe, not with Valentine's lapdogs in the same room as her. At some point Luke helped her leave the room unscathed, after which he finished off Pangborn and Blackwell. But the words he spoke as he bent down beside her ear, his breath tickling her neck, sent shivers down her spine, reviving the thoughts and feelings she had whenever he was around: "I'll come back for you, Jocelyn. I always do."

_I've learned through hope and faith__  
__On the curves around your face__  
__That I'm the one you'll hold__  
__Forever_

She still worried, anxious until the moment she heard Luke's voice coming back for her. He couldn't touch the manacles, she'd learned – they were silver – but he had assistance from a boy, one that spoke to Clary with tension in his voice.

They took her back to the mundane world, placing her in a hospital that stuck her in a room with a heart monitor and IV fluids. The mundanes obviously didn't think she'd make it out of her 'coma' alive, and they didn't hesitate to say so. Though there were some days when she wondered if she'd ever really wake up. The drought Fell had given her could only be reversed by a warlock with the Book of the White, and only Fell and Madeleine knew about what she had planned.

Besides, no one expected the Book of the White to be hidden in 'Simple Recipes for Housewives' in the Wayland manor house's library.

_If morning never comes__  
__For either one of us__  
__Then this I'll pray to you__  
__Wherever_

Jocelyn didn't like the hospital much. The nurses gossiped and cursed colorfully, the doctors came once in a while to give her visitors euphemisms like 'she's not going to make it at this rate.' The beds were stiff and uncomfortable, causing dull aches in her back, in her neck, and her limbs, though she appreciated the lack of chains.

The best part was that Luke was with her always, and Clary would come often as well. They believed that she could still hear them, and they talked to her, telling her of what had happened, and filling in the gaps in her information.

_I'll do anything for you__  
__This story is for you__  
__Cause I'd do, anything you want me to__  
__For you__  
__Kill anyone for you_

She heard of everything: Clary's discovery of Shadowhunters, her first Marks, and her going up against the Ravenor demon that first night she returned to the apartment. She heard about the Lightwoods, Hodge, and Jace, the latter being the one Clary dwelled on most. She heard what they knew of Valentine's plans, and longed to inform them more so, and learned more with every word that all her precautions to protect her baby girl were for naught. Jocelyn would have frozen with panic or shaken with rage if she'd been able to move instead of just laying there, limp on the bed like a forgotten toy.

She felt forgotten often, late at night when the darkness deepened the black shadows beneath her eyelids, both before and after she'd been free of Valentine. From the way Clary talked about everything and how excited she was, she feared that her daughter would never come back. She wondered how much of Clary would be the daughter she'd raised, and how much of the new Shadowhunter Clary there would be.

_So leave yourself intact__  
__Cause I won't be coming back__  
__In a phrase to cut these lips:__  
__'I loved you'_

And there was a time when Jocelyn was left alone in the hospital. After some time of constant visits, be it Valentine, Blackwell, Pangborn, Luke, or Clary, they stopped coming. She was given notice, of course. Clary and Luke had told her that Clary would be gone; Luke's tone filled with worry, Clary's filled with awe and excitement. They hadn't told her Luke would be leaving as well.

So Jocelyn lay on the hospital bed, filled with longing and worry when Luke last visited her. He'd come one last time, saying that he would be seeing her daughter off. But afterwards, he said something to her, something that she never thought she'd be lucky enough to hear:

"When I offered to marry you, after you left Idris, I wasn't being charitable. I was being as selfish as I could. I wanted you all to myself, and I still do. I love you, Jocelyn." Then he bent over her, stroking her cheek and placing his lips upon hers for just a moment, a soft message all its own, with no time for words to get in the way.

When he left, she felt a blush in her cheeks. It seemed to be the only thing she was still capable of doing.

Luke and Clary didn't come back though; neither did the boy Clary had brought once, nor Madeleine. She was left with the nurses and doctors. She was scared for them, terrified, and she wanted to be able to go with them, to help them take down Valentine, to take down the demons, her job as a Shadowhunter. When she thought of that, she would have laughed if it was physically possible. She had left the Shadowhunters' world, and when she got pulled back in, she was forced to sit at the sidelines.

_The morning will come__  
__In the press of every kiss; with your head upon my chest__  
__Where I will annoy you__  
__With every waking breath__  
__Until you__  
__Decide to wake up_

Then, when the morning sun lit up her eyelids faintly pink, she heard someone come into her room. By the sound of the footsteps, it wasn't Luke, Clary, or Madeleine. It was the clicking of dress shoes, maybe a doctor or nurse. The sound was quick, impatient. She figured they were coming to make sure she was still alive.

That is, until she heard the rustle of pages and a familiar chuckle. It was the warlock, but not Fell; no, that voice was distinctly familiar. She'd heard it every two years when she brought Clary to him. It was the High Warlock.

Magnus Bane.

As the pages settled, a sound like fire started up, though she knew no flames were in the room. It was a language that the warlock had used before for spells, and within moments, she felt a warm, tingly feeling spreading through her from her heart. It felt a little like pins and needles, and Jocelyn Morgenstern made the first move she had in weeks.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she flinched at the light from the windows. The warlock was shimmering, not only from the glitter he was covered in, but from the blue sparks that adorned his figure. He was grinning, and when he saw her open eyes, he spoke. "Sleeping Beauty finally awakens! It's about time." He paused, the grin slipping a little. "You do realize that your daughter may be the reason for the best and worst things going on at the moment?"

Jocelyn pulled her arms towards her, wincing at the feel of the blood flow increasing, and sat up. "Why do you think I'm here, Bane?" She whispered, her voice raspy and dry from disuse. She cleared her throat, noticing how her hand flew up to her neck, glad to be mobile again.

His grin widened again, and he held out a hand to help her up. "Everyone's waiting for us. Shall we?"

Jocelyn swung her legs off the side of the bed and stood with Magnus's help. "Let's go."

Because of her daughter's newfound strength, Jocelyn was able to walk again, to talk and to fight, to join her sisters and brothers under Raziel. Because of her daughter's newfound strength, she had finally woken up.

_The morning will come__  
__In the press of every kiss; with your head upon my chest__  
__Where I will annoy you__  
__With every waking breath__  
__Until you__  
__Decide to wake up_

_Until you__  
__Decide to__  
__Wake Up_

_Wow, dunno where that came from but it turned out way better than I expected!_

_I've been on a TMI writing trip, and finally got around to this and another idea that I've been playing around with. I finally got to writing it, so I decided to post it here!_

_So, what do you think? Make sure to tell me._

_Every review feeds the TMI cats - Church and Chairman Meow. And we wouldn't want them to become malnourished would we? It's easy - just click the blue review text!_

_Thanks for reading!_


End file.
